“You had a niche market.”
“Which I was hoping to keep,” Lucy said. “But then stuff happened and I became a pariah.”
Gabriel grabbed a couple of glasses of champagne off a tray and drew Lucy into an alcove, where it was easier to talk privately.
“Before we were interrupted,” he said, “I was trying to explain that, while I do believe it’s possible your memories of what happened two months ago may have been altered by the energy in the tunnels—”
“And the fact that I was drunk and probably doing some illegal drugs,” Lucy interrupted much too sweetly. “Mustn’t forget that part.”
“All right, fine. The combination of heavy drinking, drugs of any kind, and three days in the tunnels isn’t a good one. But what I’m trying to tell you is that I don’t doubt your ability to handle the weather in the Underworld.”
“Is that so? Why not?”
“Because I trust you. If you didn’t think you could handle the job, you would tell me. Do you have any doubts about your talent?”
“No.”
“Fine. That’s settled. We’re going down tomorrow morning at five.”
But Lucy was not looking at him. She was watching someone in the crowd. He followed her gaze and saw a tall, long-legged blonde making her way toward them. The woman was in her late thirties and dressed for high drama in a bloodred gown.
“Another friend?” Gabriel asked.
“Not exactly. You’re about to meet Cassandra Keele of Keele Investigations. She’s the owner of the agency I hired to look into what happened to me that night. Like the cops, she came up empty-handed. Unlike the police, she sent me a bill.”
Cassandra glided to a halt in front of them.
“Lucy, so good to see you out and about,” she said. “I hope that means you’re on the road to recovery.”
“I recovered as soon as the meds I was given at the clinic wore off,” Lucy said.
But Cassandra was not listening. She gave Gabriel a mega-rez smile showing a lot of brilliant white teeth, produced a business card, and handed it to him with a graceful flourish.
“Cassandra Keele, of Keele Investigations. Welcome to Illusion Town, Mr. Jones. We’re all delighted to have our own Guild. It’s even better than a sports franchise. My firm specializes in high-rez talents who can work aboveground and in the Underworld. Discretion and client confidentiality absolutely guaranteed. Please call if you need our expertise for any reason. We know the local territory.”
“Thanks,” Gabriel said. He slipped the business card into the same pocket he had used for the Weather Wizards card.
Cassandra looked as if she was about to continue her sales pitch, but a masculine voice interrupted.
“Lucy, I heard you were here tonight.” A well-dressed, open-faced man stopped at the alcove. “You look fabulous, by the way. How are you feeling these days?”
“I’m great, Dillon,” Lucy said. “Fully recovered.”
“Good, good, glad to hear it.” The newcomer swung around to give Gabriel a warm, professional smile. He held out a business card. “Dillon Westover. Westover Outfitters. Everything you need to explore the Underworld. We can handle bulk orders for flamers, navigation amber, and Rainforest gear, as well as supplies and equipment for every condition you’re likely to encounter down below. We guarantee delivery within twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gabriel said. He added the card to his growing collection and then made a show of checking the time. He smiled at Lucy. “We should be on our way. We want to get an early start tomorrow.”
“Right.” She set her unfinished champagne down with some speed and looked around. “We need to find Otis.”
A horrified scream echoed across the ballroom. Gabriel realized that everyone was turning toward the buffet table.
“Uh-oh,” Lucy said.
She dove into the crowd, heading in the direction of the loudest shrieks. Gabriel followed. The trail led to a table draped in a pristine white tablecloth. A large, multitiered, elaborately decorated engagement cake was displayed on top of the table.
Otis was on the top layer, his rear paws sunk deep in thick frosting. He was munching his way through the amber-yellow sugar roses that crowned the cake. The path he had used to climb to the top was etched in the frosting on each layer.
When he noticed Lucy bearing down on him, he chortled and graciously offered her a rose.
“Otis, how could you?” Lucy grabbed him off the top of the cake and tucked him under her arm, heedless of his frosting-covered paws.